Page 152 of Dare To Live

I open the top of the box, and push the tissue paper aside so I can carefully lift out the dress packed away inside.

“It seems so long ago. I spent weeks sketching what I wanted before I dared make a start.”

Miles’ brows lift. “Black?”

“I planned to make it white, and then…well, things changed.”

“Eli.”

I smile at the memory. “Yes, Eli.”

We’re alone in the little room, the other two women with projects have opted out of completing theirs. Their lives took a different turn, one that didn’t include dressmaking. Not that I’m complaining about it. I work better without distractions and, now that it’s in front of me, I’m itching to get started on it.

I examine the dress for damage, but it’s survived the last ten years. Someone has been thoughtful enough to store it in a cool, dark place. I drape it across the table in front of me, where my old sketchbook is open on the design— a beautiful gothic ball gown. The cemetery in the woods and my melancholy, morbid mood, which had held sway over me most of my stay at the Academy, had inspired it.

I open the box wider to reveal silver and black brocade. Gathering the elegant fabric in my arms, I walk back to the table.

Miles reaches out to stroke the material as I lay it down. “That’s gorgeous.”

“Eli got it for me that Christmas as a gift.”

He grins. “So, about you and Eli.”

I roll my eyes. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“It doesn’t look that way from where I’m standing. You’re in his bed, wearing his clothes. You’ve branded him where everyone can see.”

“We’re having mind blowing sex.”

“And?” He stares at me patiently.

“I don’t know.”

“Have you told him you’re still in love with him?”

“Are you insane?”

Miles gently bumps his shoulder against mine. “I think you should tell him.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I like what we have right now. I don’t want to mess it up. It’s…uncomplicated. No expectations or commitments. No strings. No messy feelings.”

Miles hums. “A woman doesn’t claim a man the way you have if she just wants his dick.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I’m uncomfortable that he knows how I feel about Eli.

“Do you think you’ll get the dress finished in time for Friday?” He changes the subject, much to my relief.

“I think so.” I sit at the table and turn my attention to the sewing machine in front of me. “I don’t have any plans for the rest of the day.”

I can already imagine how the dress will look—the fitted bodice and flowing silver and black skirt that flares out.

It takes me a second to become aware that Miles is still hovering beside me. “Are you okay?”

“I’m doing better than yesterday.” He drags out the other seat and drops down into it. “It was a difficult night.”

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